iSaw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus
by ipwnyourmother
Summary: She saw the beard move slightly as he grinned and came towards her, bending so that his face was level with hers where she sat on the edge of the bed. “Kiss for Santa?” He said quietly. Spam. Established relationship. Oneshot.


**A/N: HEY, GUESS WHAT? I don't own iCarly. I do own a fake Santa Claus beard, because I saw it in the store and thought 'Hey. I want that.' I give my Santa beard credit for its role in this story. Anyways, this fic is just a quick Spam Christmas fic, because I love Spam and I love Christmas and I thought – hey, why not combine the two? Read it, review it, print it and wrap your Christmas presents in it – whatever makes you happy.**

The small blond woman bit her tongue as she watched her husband glare at his own reflection. He was dressed in full Santa Claus garb – from big fake belly to big fake beard. He'd gone all out and now seemed to be regretting it. He tugged at the beard and she choked on a laugh as he muttered a sardonic 'Ho, ho, ho.' He spun around to look at her where she was perched on their bed and she quickly hid the smirk that stretched her lips, fixing him instead with her most angelic smile. "You think this is funny, Sam?" He asked, his voice filled with mock anger.

She blinked, "Of course not! What gave you that idea?" He laughed and she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from doing so too – she thought it was funny and he knew it. After all the years they'd been together, he'd learned to figure out when she was lying. He folded his arms over his chest sulkily and the face he made at her was the same face their six year old daughter made when she was pouting. With a small smile, she slipped from the bed and walked over to him, stretching up on her toes so that she could wrap her arms around his neck. "It's a little funny." She said and he narrowed his eyes at her. "But also very sweet. I love that you're willing to do something like this for our daughter." She smiled up at him and after a moment he gave in with a sigh, wrapping his arms around her.

"I can't believe Morgan doesn't believe in Santa!" He said, his voice rising in pitch as he spoke. He'd been incredulous about the whole thing since their daughter had marched into the living room a week before and very calmly announced that she knew there was no Santa, but not to worry, she wouldn't tell her older brother, because that would ruin it. Sam had been unsurprised; she'd stopped believing in Santa when she was very young – of course, her mother had never even tried to tell her there _was _a Santa, but Carly had tried to convince her of his existence until they were eleven, without success. As if sensing her thoughts, he added, "And don't tell me you didn't believe in him when you were six, because you don't count!" She pretended to look offended and he shrugged. "What?" He said, "It's not like you were a normal six year old!" She punched his shoulder and pulled out of his embrace.

"Shut up!" She said, falling back onto the bed, because now it was her turn to pout. Still, even as she glowered at him, there was a sparkle in her eye – it was hard to stay genuinely mad at Santa Claus.

She saw the beard move slightly as he grinned and came towards her, bending so that his face was level with hers where she sat on the edge of the bed. "Kiss for Santa?" He said quietly.

She laughed and glanced at the clock on the bedside table; it was nearly midnight. Their son, Adam, would be dragging Morgan down the stairs soon, thanks to some bribery by Sam. Twenty bucks was a small price to pay to keep her daughter's belief in Santa alive – and she got to see her husband in a Santa suit, so it was really a double win. She turned back to the man in front of her with a smile. "You better get out there, Santa."

For just a moment he looked hurt that she didn't kiss him. But then his face went deliberately blank and he straightened up. He took a step towards the door as if he'd never even heard of something as silly as kissing. She laughed and caught his hand, pulling him back towards her and her leaping to her feet so that she could press her lips to his forehead – the only place not covered in great globs of fake hair. "Break a leg." She whispered before releasing him.

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She sat on the edge of the bed, listening to the delighted squeals of her children and the loud, bellowing laugh of her husband. Finally, she heard what she wanted to hear – her husband's voice, intentionally lowered, telling the children to get back to bed or they wouldn't get their gifts. She smiled to herself as she listened to their feet on the stairs and then she just had to wait for him to put the Santa gifts out.

She didn't have to wait long; he slipped back into the room, empty red sack over one shoulder, after just a few minutes. He gave her a look that was more than a little lascivious and she burst into furious giggles. It was then he seemed to remember he was wearing a Santa suit. "I know!" He said, waving one hand wildly as he came to sit beside her, "I look ridiculous!"

As she quieted her giggles, he began to pull the beard down. "No!" She said through the dying laughter, "Leave it on!" He gave her a look that clearly asked why, but straightened the beard again. She moved sideways to sit on his lap. "I think it's kind of sexy." She said, clearing pushing a bit of fake hair from the beard aside so she could press her lips to his.

"Daddy issues." He said breathlessly as she pulled away.

"Obviously." She said, snatching the hat from his head and putting it on her own so that she could tangle her hands in the white wig.

"Careful!" He said, "I have to return it! Don't go getting it all messy!"

She pressed her lips to his again and he decided he didn't care what she did to the costume, as long as it ended up on the floor eventually. His thumbs hooked into her pajama bottoms and she snickered quietly. "See?" She said, "My daddy issues are good for you."

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Upstairs, six year old Morgan was having trouble sleeping. She was dying to go downstairs and see if Santa was still there, dying to tell her parents that she believed in Santa again, dying to tell them she'd actually _met _him! She fidgeted restlessly in her bed and then finally threw the blankets off and leapt from bed, slipping her bare feet into the bunny slippers Santa had given her the year before and padding quietly down the stairs.

Santa was no longer in the living room, and though this was a bit disappointing, she realized he was a very busy man and padded eagerly across the living room to her parent's bedroom. She didn't bother to knock, but just nudged the door open and peered in to see if they were asleep.

They weren't. She gasped. Santa Claus was sitting on the bed, her mother in his lap and wearing his hat. As she watched, her mother pressed her lips to Santa's and pulled away, smiling softly. Morgan was appalled! They didn't even have the excuse of the mistletoe, like the song said! She was just preparing to march in and demand to know what was going on and where her father was when her mother gave Santa's hair a little tug and it fell off, revealing a mess of brown hair. "Wig hair." She muttered, running her fingers through the newly revealed brown locks. Smiling, her mother's hands slipped down to pull on Santa's beard. It fell quickly and suddenly it was hanging around Santa's neck and Santa was no longer Santa. Her mother planted a kiss on her father's lips and smiled. "Merry Christmas, Spencer." She whispered just loud enough that Morgan heard.

"Merry Christmas, Sam." Her father said, wrapping his arms around the woman on his lap. "I love you."

Her mother smiled broadly and kissed him in return and Morgan understood exactly what was going on. There was no Santa. It had been her father all along, and Adam had probably known. Smiling to herself, she shut the door and ran back up the stairs. She would never tell her parents that their trick hadn't worked; in the morning, she would get up and tell them all about how she'd met Santa.

But Adam? Oh, he was going to hear from her.


End file.
